"I could not have been more than six, possibly seven. It was in Rouen. They took me to a big, fashionable street I did not remember having ever been in before, kissed me again and again once more, stood me by the _porte-cochere_, and rang the bell. Then they went hurriedly away. By the time the bell was answered, they had disappeared. I was questioned by a tall man-servant--after that, I don't exactly recollect what happened, except that the Baronne adopted me. She lived in the big house." "And it was in Rouen, you say?" "Yes, in Rouen." "Do you think you would recognise it if you saw the outside of it again?" I asked quickly. She paused. "I think I should," she said thoughtfully, "though we did not stay there long--not more than a few months. Why do you ask?" "Only," I answered, "because I have an idea. But now let us leave this place. It is nearly four o'clock." Yes, we were a truly unconventional quartette. The hotel people were surprised, on the following morning, to find one of our two rooms occupied by two fair visitors, while in the other Faulkner and I slept, tucked up together. But in gay, reckless Monte nobody is surprised at anything. That an attempt would at once be made to discover Violet's whereabouts and get her back, we knew. For that reason we had arranged to leave for Paris by the mid-day _rapide_. CHAPTER TWENTY. CONCERNS A MYSTERIOUS LIGHT. London--the dear, dirty old city of delight--looked gloomy enough as we passed out of Charing Cross yard, and made our way around the corner to the _Grand Hotel_. It was a damp, raw evening, and after the crisp atmosphere and bright sunshine of the Riviera, seemed to us more than ordinarily depressing. By wire we had engaged rooms at the _Grand_ for Vera and Violet, overlooking Trafalgar Square, and we now began to wonder what our next step ought to be. I wanted, if possible, to get into communication with Sir Charles and Lady Thorold, for I was anxious not to delay my marriage any longer, and Vera, though she had promised to become my wife as soon as possible, refused to do so until she had seen her parents. But where were her parents? She had no idea, neither had I. We had telegraphed to the address in Brighton where they had been staying, but an intimation had come from the Post Office that the message had not been delivered, the addressee having left. As for Faulkner, he was distrait. Something seemed to be on his mind, and I thought I knew what it was. He was engaged to be married to Gladys Deroxe, of whom Vera had, during the past day or two, let drop certain things.